


The Wrong Welcome

by Vixenmage



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9162250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixenmage/pseuds/Vixenmage
Summary: "So... a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."





	

The ornate doors swung open easily, heavy though they were. He stepped through and heard his footsteps echo in the dusty stone halls. Sunlight illuminated a central place in the courtyard, and clay pots stood around it. As he gazed around at the area, he heard footsteps approaching, and six men in grey robes, hoods obscuring their faces, entered the hall.

"So," said the first, an elderly man with his beard in a small horsetail, "A Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."

Klimmek nodded. "What does it mean?"

"That... is yet to be decided, Dragonborn."

There was a brief pause, as the rest of the Greybeards took positions around the courtyard and Klimmek processed the last line.

"Wait - no, I'm not... I mean, I just came here to--"

"You were summoned, Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice."

Could it be...? He took a deep breath, reached deep inside, and shouted with all his might. "AAAAAAIIIIGHHH!!!!"

Nothing happened.

Arngeir looked at the other Greybeards, bewildered, and then back at him. "I did not say yell, Dragonborn. I said Shout. Let us taste of your Thu'um!"

Klimmek glanced around, took a step back. "I deliver the supplies, I don't know how to Shout!"

There was another pause, this one longer. The other Greybeards looked at each other, then at Arngeir, who finally threw up his hands.

"But if you were not... Why did you... ah, it matters not. Do not mention this. To anyone."

Klimmek stared at them.

"Now go!"

* * *

 

The tall young Redguard glanced up the pass, then back down. His armor looked fairly new, but low quality stuff. Studded leather, probably made it himself. A sword looted from a barrow. A deep, throaty voice. A curious, restless look.

"What can you tell me about the Greybeards?" he asked, hand on his swordbelt.

Klimmek looked up the pass, then back at the young, inexperienced warrior in front of him. "Um. I've . . . never even laid eyes on one of the Greybeards. Wouldn't want to. Nope. I just bring the food. You can take this run's up, if you have the time while you're going." He wondered why an adventurer from well outside Skyrim would be making the 7,000 Steps. Could it be...? Nah. "The road's a bit dangerous, but nothing you couldn't handle."

With a grunt, he handed the sack to the Redguard, and breathed a sigh of relief as the young man started jogging across the bridge. It was all getting to be too much.


End file.
